


Sad Eyes And City Lights

by alcoholiclesbian



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Angst, Bottom Russia (Hetalia), M/M, Porn With Plot, Strippers & Strip Clubs, Top America (Hetalia)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-12
Updated: 2019-08-12
Packaged: 2020-08-19 22:17:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20217172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alcoholiclesbian/pseuds/alcoholiclesbian
Summary: Ivan Braginsky came to America to get away from his father and the life that Russia had given him. with barley 20 dollars in his pocket in American he wanted to start anew but to do that, he needed a way to make money. So selling himself seemed like the only way to go.Alfred F. Jones was a successful business man and playboy with a boring and monochrome life. Born and raised in the United States of America he was given a privileged life growing up yet, now that he was an adult he was anything but.When the two meet, maybe they can bring some color into each other's black and white lives.And sad eyes meet city lights for the first time.





	1. Chapter 1

"This what happen when I think 'bout you,  
I get my feelings, yeah  
I start reminiscing, yeah  
Next time around, fuck I want it to be different, yeah  
Waiting on a sign, guess it's time for a different prayer  
Lord please save her for me, do this one favor for me  
I had to change my play of ways got way to complicated for me  
I hope she's waiting for me  
Everywhere she go, they playin' my song  
That's why I say the things that I say that way I know you can't ignore me  
But so, so..."

How many times has he experience this kind of hurt?

He had lost count after high school, being in relationships for the sake of sex and comfort when it was required just to be left in the dirt or leave them in the dirt. He had come to America once he scrounged up the money for a ticket, leaving everything behind. His family, most of his clothes, his...life. He wanted to start anew, and had the potential when he first stepped foot onto American soil, but he soon realized how much harder life is going to be.

He had enough for a small, dirty apartment. Moving himself into it alone. The walls were cracked with tearing wallpaper, the floors were creaky and old and the fridge was full of mold. Thankfully he was taught some cleaning cheats with casual household items and spent a day cleaning. He would have to repair another time.

Finding a job was the hardest part, he needed money to pay rent and feed himself. He had tried at nearby cafes, tried with stores and convenience stores but never lucked out. 

Then he met a man, someone who promised to pay him good money to dance. 

Ivan was only 18, he was naive and didn't know any better. He only knew that he needed money, so he agreed. What was wrong with dancing? He practiced ballet and figure skating. But the job he was offered wasn't anything like he imagined it when he walked into the dimly lit, dirty building full of men both old and young, handsome and ugly, fat and thin and built with petite like men, boys, dressed indecently dancing and selling their bodies for a night. He was disgusted, he had said no but then he considered his situation. It was money, and the man assured him he wouldn't get hurt and could give his own consent to clients. His smile was deceiving and convincing.

So he said yes.

Now, he was 23, and he couldn't even look at himself in the mirror. Ash blonde hair long and sometimes tangled, eyes void of any emotion staring back at him. He didn't know the stranger in the mirror, so he didn't look at him. He kept his back to him, kept his eyes casted down avoiding any eye contact with the man...the boy with similar eyes to his. 

His dressing room was small but it had a vanity and two racks of clothes, makeup on the table and skimpy outfits on the rods. The music outside the room had faded to another song, but he couldn't make it out through the static. He put his makeup on, using a small mirror so he wouldn't be able to look at his whole face. The brush felt like pins and needles and the foundation felt like cement. He closed the compact mirror and stood from the chair, the white silky robe sliding off and onto the carpeted floor. He grabbed his outfit of The night, a tight white long sleeved crop top with white laced panties and thigh high socks with heals. All white, pure and angelic but he was far from an angel. 

He didn't need to look at his outfit, he knew what it looked like to others and that's all that mattered. He looked at his arms, scars from years ago covered by foundation, concealer and powder. Scars from when he was young, depressed, suicidal. When he didn't want to live because he was so disgusted with his doings. But when he turned 21 he turned to the bottle instead, vodka mostly.

He closed his eyes when there was a knock on the door, sighing softly when he heard the voice of a bouncer he had actually gotten along with when he first started. 

"It's almost your time, snowflake."

Snowflake, that's what everyone knew him as. That's who he knew himself as.

He wasn't Ivan Braginsky.

He was just snowflake. And that's all he's going to be.


	2. Chapter 2

Success was always a big part of Alfred F. Jones life. His father always wanted him to succeed which is why he was top of his classes, quarterback of his schools football team and went to Harvard for business classes. He was always a popular one, always talked to or about. Yes, he was perfect.

Though, only he knew he really wasn't. There were things his father didn't know quite yet, because if he told him, Alfred would be disowned. Even if he was 24, his father - who has retired from his position - still breathed over his shoulder. 

Alfred didn't hate his father, though he did blame him for his mother leaving at a young age and his brother moving to France to be with their cousin. Because he had a power complex, he wanted to be the top and be the man of everything.

But, he still loved him as a father. So if he found out Alfred was gay, he would either have a heart attack or give Alfred a rough backhand to the head and put him in his place just like old times.

When he found out his father was selling him to an arranged marriage, he was furious. He had told his father that he wanted to find his own bride.

"You're 24, Alfred. You're going to be 25 in 6 months and you haven't found anyone yet! I'm tired of waiting for you to give me grandkids."

Alfred couldn't argue, because he knew changing his father's mind would never happen.

The marriage was rushed, he barley knew the woman. Though he knew she was already hopelessly in love with the big shot, Alfred was a handsome man. He had golden blonde hair, had the sky trapped in his eyes behind thin wired glasses and had a beautifully structured strong face. And not to mention he was built like a God...not really, but he went to the gym regularly and he had a nice body.

And she wasn't ugly, in fact she was gorgeous. Dark brown hair and hazel eyes with a slim face and cute nose. But she wasn't a he, so she wasn't his type.

Alfred had dreamt of married life but not like this. Where his wife was some money and sex craved woman who was only obsessed with him because he had looks, money and a great dick. Yeah, he knew he could give some good sex, the cute twink receptionist from Japan assured him of that. He always thought he'd settle down with a man who liked to cook, loved animals and loved to cuddle and be submissive. Alfred was dominant, he was definitely looking for someone submissive and sometimes his wife got a little too...crazy. He didn't like being bossed around, or laying on his back with her on top. He wanted to be on top, he was a gentle lover unless whoever he was fucking screamed at him to go harder and faster. 

After work, Alfred decided to splurge on himself for a little bit. He texted his wife that he was going out for a beer with some of the guys, he couldn't tell her he was going to a gay strip club, either way she wouldn't be happy.

He had heard of this small strip club that had quite the shows, and good beer. He wouldn't go to a big club or anything, a big chance he'll be recognized. So a small run down strip club was perfect. When he arrived and walked in he made a face at the smell, it was busy in the strip club and he wondered why. There didn't seem to be anything special here, though some of the dancers were cute they were way too young looking and slutty. He found a spot at the bar and ordered a pint, he had taken off his suit jacket and left it in the car so he was just wearing a white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up and black dress pants.

The clientele here were...interesting, he found. He saw that they do private shows here and scowled a bit at the small but readable text that said 'talk to the manager for "extra private" shows.' he knew that meant, he wasn't stupid. He knew why it was so busy now, these were definitely the type of men to pay for sex.

The dancer had left the stage after collecting the cash that had been thrown at him. Then the setting seemed to have changed, everyone seemed more excited than they were 5 minutes ago. 

The lights dimmed to a light blue on the stage, a soft song that was being sung in a different language, German maybe? Or...Russian, yes, that sounded right. It was had a slow, upbeat tune to it, sung beautifully by a woman. 

Alfred took another sip of his beer as the curtains opened up and the clicking of heels could be heard, he didn't know what to expect when he saw a figure slowly walking into the light. What he first saw were slim, smooth legs covered by white stockings and heels, then a thin yet curvy torso, then a flat chest and last but not least a pretty face. Alfred has never believed in love at first, but this was something kind of like that he supposed.

There were cheers and whoops as the man started to dance, he was flexible, movements smooth and beautiful. Just like him, he was so beautiful.

Alfred watched as if he was in a trance and the dancers body was the reason. He turned to the bartender to order another beer, "who is that?" He asked when he got the drink.

The bartender smirked a bit, "we call him snowflake, no one really knows his real name just his stripper name. He seems to like it that way." He hummed and went to polish glasses.

Snowflake? Now that wouldn't do. He wanted to know his name, his real name. He was a charmer, he could charm his way into a conversation with him. 

Once the show was over the dancer left the cash on the floor of the stage. Whore money, that's all that was, he didn't seem to care for it which was unusual but understandable. Alfred looked at the sign again, then downed the rest of his drink and went to talk to the manager.

~*~

"He don't do private sessions." The gruff voice told Alfred, "I mean, you can try, and if you succeed he ain't costing ya cheap."

"I'm sure money won't be a problem," Alfred said, "where's his room?"

Dark brown eyes stared at him, before he opened his mouth, "down the hall, it has a snowflake on it." 

Smirking in triumph, Alfred turned on his heel and started walking. The manager giving the bouncers the go ahead to let him in. It wasn't hard finding the door, the snowflake ornament glittered in the flat lighting.

Alfred knocked, after a few seconds of thinking of what he was going to say. There was silence from the other end, so he knocked again. 

Finally, the door creaked open and those beautiful amethysts glared up at him, "I don't do private shows." He said lowly, his accent washing over Alfred's body. The patron worked fast to catch the door before it closed.

"I'm not here for sex," he said, wincing as the male pushed harder on the door squishing his fingers, "l-listen I just want to talk! I promise I won't try anything!" He begged, letting out a sigh of relief when his fingers were let go but the door was slammed in his face, "two hundred, just to talk." Silence, "three?" Nothing, "...three fifty." He could hear his wallet crying, all this just to know his damned name! But then again, when Alfred wanted something, he was going to get it. Whether it be small information or not.

Once again, the door opened, and those eyes were glaring at him again, "200 is fine. You have 15 minutes." He said, leaving the blonde to open the door himself. 

15 minutes was all he needed.


End file.
